


The Honey Trap

by PatPrecieux



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Food Sex, John is a Saint, M/M, Season 1, Sherlock is a Brat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 15:05:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9446819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatPrecieux/pseuds/PatPrecieux
Summary: John finds a "cure" for Sherlock's refusal to eat.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChrisCalledMeSweetie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisCalledMeSweetie/gifts), [DaisyFairy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyFairy/gifts).



> John can accept the clutter, the experiments in the middle of the night, even the bratty attitude. What he can't abide is watching Sherlock ignore his health.

"I fail to understand why you bother, John."

 

The doctor huffed out an annoyed grunt, "Beginning to wonder myself. Thing is, you madman, despite becoming your imbecilic sidekick, I AM still a doctor. It is impossible for me to watch you starve yourself."

 

"I'm hardly starving John. My body mass is..."

 

"Shit, is what it is. Maybe if you were fourteen and expected to fill out."

 

"Obviously, not a growing child doctor."

 

"Growing no. Child? Definitely!"

 

"Quite the bedside manner. Insults are meant to stimulate my appetite are they?"

 

"Look, you know I worry about you. At least your body makes you sleep after a point, if only from exhaustion. But this not eating, Sherlock, bit not good. You are going to damage your health beyond repair."

 

Sherlock sniffed, "I'm sure you would be able to find a suitable replacement for a flatmate upon my demise."

 

"That is possibly the most asinine thing I have ever heard you say, and that is saying a lot."

 

"John, you are behaving like a teenage girl, all angst and drama. Perhaps fresh air would appeal. To you I mean, naturally I'M not going out in that rain."

 

"Perish the thought, Your Majesty. I'll just go have a brisk walk in the monsoon shall I?"

 

"Seems the only sensible course of action. Stop at Tesco's on the way back. I need black quinoa and gel bathroom cleaner, experiment."

 

"Assuming I come back."

 

"Don't be ridiculous John, where else would you go?"

 

The bloggers rebuttal froze in his throat as he realized it was true. John hadn't reconnected with any Army or school mates, and Sherlock had all but insured his celibacy. A woman who survived even one evening without trauma was rare.

 

John had resigned himself to a chorus of "Call me if you ever breakup with your tall boyfriend Doctor Watson," ending any date. Like it or not, Baker Street had become Home. Infuriating, but Home.

 

"By the way, take my card. You never have any money."

 

John silently steamed as he put on his jacket and clomped down the stairs. Mrs.Hudson peered out of her flat, but seeing his face, beat a hasty retreat.

 

Pausing briefly outside, under cover of Speedy's awning, John clenched his fists and closed his eyes. Apparently he was not only a teenage girl, but an ogre who scared housekeepers. 

 

Stepping out into the open, he blinked against the driving rain beating his face and shouted at the overhead street camera. "Mycroft Holmes, I want kidnapping, and I bloody well want it NOW!"

 

~~~***~~~

 

So it was, that next Friday afternoon, John came home with a smile and a small package. "Hello dear, you seem relaxed."

 

"I am Mrs.Hudson, looking forward to a few days off."

 

"You've recovered from Sherlock's latest experiment then?"

 

"No choice, nothing for it."

 

"Who would think to cook quinoa in gel cleaner?"

 

"And who would predict it would explode and bounce like tiny rubber balls?"

 

"Not even Sherlock this time. He seemed more surprised than we were, and even more surprised when you made him clean the mess up."

 

"Sherlock's not really familiar with consequences for his actions."

 

Hudders tossed her head and winked, "I have a feeling you're going to change that dear."

 

"Possibly. I'll let you know."

 

"Oh I'll know, John, I'll know."

 

~~~***~~~

 

Saturday morning, John was gratified to find Sherlock had actually gone to bed and slept. "There he is, you sleep well?"

 

"I can only attribute my lapse in routine to the manual labor forced upon me."

 

"Having to scrub the floors?"

 

"And the walls, AND the ceilings!"

 

"Teach you not to blow things up."

 

"Taught me to never allow you to bully me again."

 

John snorted, "I've never bullied you. WHEN I do, you will be well aware of it."

 

Sherlock went into strop mode, flopping down on the sofa, pajama bottoms dragging, bare chest pink with embarrassment, tattered dressing gown his armor. 

 

"How about some breakfast?"

 

"Now you're trying to bully me into eating?"

 

"Again not bullying, just asking."

 

"Get stuffed."

 

"Lovely, ta. I'll just feed myself."

 

"Please yourself, just don't involve me."

 

"Can't be arsed to care. Too hungry."

 

Without turning, Sherlock could deduce, through hearing and smell, what John was cooking. Sausages and eggs frying, that would mean tomatoes too. Beans plopping from a can, toast popping up lightly browned.

 

Tea cup rattled, knife and fork scraping against one another, eating, how mundane. Then silence, followed by a sound that Sherlock had only ever encountered in his research of gay porn. A sound coming from John!

 

"Oooohhhh, Christ. Jesus, Jesus." It sounded as if John was having a serious wank at the kitchen table. Well, Sherlock wasn't about to be fooled!

 

"Oh god, God, GOD!!"

 

Temper tantrum activated, Sherlock flipped over, "John, Mrs.Hudson will think you are dying! What are you do..."

 

The doctor was eating a piece of toast slathered with the brightest golden honey Sherlock had ever seen. "Sorry, sorry, didn't realize I was making so much noise, it's just this honey."

 

"John you've eaten honey before without having an orgasmic seizure. Control yourself."

 

"I've never had honey like this though. Had a wee girl in clinic yesterday, infected ear. Poor thing was in agony, so I drained the abscess and stopped the pain. Seems her Dad is a Turkish diplomat just come to London. Didn't know a soul. He was so grateful he gave me this jar of honey. Think he called it Elvish."

 

Sherlock slid off the sofa onto the floor, "Elvish? From Turkey?"

 

The doctor smacked his lips, his tongue spreading the honey down his chin. "This is so good Sherlock, can't help myself. You're right though, I need a tidy. Damn, this is sticky."

 

John began to stand, and Sherlock staggered to his feet. "Stop John, what are you doing, where are you going?"

 

"Easy on mate, just going to wash my hands. I'm covered with the stuff."

 

"Are you insane?! Elvish honey is 5,000 euros($6,800) a kilogram. You can't just flush it down the drain! Just no!"

 

John chuckled, "Suggestions genius?"

 

"Do catch on will you. Don't waste it, eat it!"

 

"Sherlock it's too rich, I've had all I can handle."

 

"You are NOT washing your hands!"

 

"Am I meant to sit quietly till I'm hungry again?"

 

"By then it would be spoiled. Let me think, why can't I think?"

 

"I know I'm the idiot here, but would you like a taste?" John held up his right thumb, a small rivulet of honey flowing towards his palm.

 

The detective knelt on the lino, and licked a broad stripe up the side, then sucked the thumb into his mouth. John smiled, "Good yeah? So sweet."

 

The doctor was beginning to understand kids sucking their thumbs. He was certainly enjoying himself. Sherlock pulled off the thumb with a pop. "Thank you John, it's delicious."

 

The smaller man put both hands out, fingers splayed. "Go on then, make a good job of it. Waste not want not. Go on. It's all fine."

 

Sherlock laved each finger with great tenderness and care. Then the palms, and finally the wrists. He sat back on his heels, eyes glassy, chest heaving. "Sherlock, you ok? Look at me."

 

Like coming out of a trance, he looked up at John, face flushed, a stray curl falling over his forehead. "John, you seem to have more on your mouth and your chin."

 

"You too brilliant boy. What say you come up here and we help one another tidy up?" He pulled Sherlock to straddle his lap.

 

"I'm to sit on your lap like a toddler John?"

 

The blogger shifted in his seat, "Trust me when I tell you, the last thing you are right now is a toddler. And Captain Johnny agrees."

 

"Who is Captain Johnny?"

 

John took Sherlock's right hand and directed it to the Captain, who was now standing at attention. "Now about my chin."

 

~~~***~~~

 

The snogging session was hot enough to curdle the eggs, refry the sausage and beans, wilt the tomatoes, and burn the toast. When John held Sherlock's hand on the way to the bedroom, there wasn't a drop of honey on any finger.

 

As the younger man lapped at the honey he had drizzled on the tanned neck, John sighed. "You're rather good at cleaning it seems."

 

"When sufficiently motivated, I believe I can excel at many things."

 

John rolled on top and put a dollop of honey in a pale navel. "We need to explore that, gorgeous. For science of course."

 

"Indee hee hee hee! John that tickles!"

 

"Aware thanks, you're so sexy when you squirm."

 

"You are perverted Doctor Watson. I had already deduced that, however, when you made a honey sandwich using my arse cheeks for buns."

 

"Always did enjoy eating the filling out of my sandwiches first."

 

"You display a great talent in that area, and others. Could you see to the residue on the Shorter Sherlock and his two friends? I think the honey is congealing."

 

John laughed and completed the task at hand, gently mouthing at Sherlock's sweet but spent cock. "Think we've both had our fill of honey for now, luv."

 

Sherlock couldn't stifle the giggle when he turned to cuddle John and found the sheet firmly stuck between his "buns." "We appear to be in a sticky situation John."

 

"Not the first, won't be the last. You, me, never boring."

 

"Was there really a Turkish diplomat?"

 

"Does Mycroft own a hookah? Just asking."

 

"You brought my brother into our bedroom?"

 

"More accurately, into my breakfast with the prospect of improving your appetite."

 

"I believe there is going to be an increase in several of my appetites."

 

"I love that idea almost as much as I love you Sherlock."

 

"I find I love you as well, and I like it. What I don't like is a sheet glued to my anus."

 

"Who knew you'd be a sweet talker in bed?"

 

"For the moment may we forestall afterglow in favor of a shower and clean bedding?"

 

"And there's the posh git I know and love. Shower then sheets."

 

Sherlock blushed, "Only being practical John. At this point, given our weakened condition, coitus would be ill advised."

 

"Ill advised, we'd be stuck together till Easter."

 

"Easter? Perhaps we should reconsider."

 

"Brat, don't make me spank you."

 

"I might enjoy it, another new appetite?"

 

"Guarantee you won't, young man."

 

Sherlock grinned, "But YOU will."

 

The sounds of firm smacks and laughter echoed off the shower tiles. It was, after all, for research.

 

~~~***~~~

 

Early Monday, John came down for the post. Mrs.Hudson called out, "John dear, would you come in for a minute please?"

 

He walked in to the smell of blueberry scones waiting to be taken upstairs. "These are smashing Hudders, thank you."

 

"So your honey trap got him to eat then?"

 

"Obvious was it?"

 

"Mycroft called Friday for the clinic number. He told me you had a plan. Well done you."

 

"There's, ah, one more thing I should tell you."

 

"Wait a tic dear, something else to go up to your flat."

 

She bustled into the kitchen as John stuttered, "It's just that, well you see, Sherlock and I..."

 

Mrs.Hudson came back from the kitchen, stack of freshly washed and ironed sheets in her outstretched arms, her face a study in wisdom and happiness.

 

"I know dear, I know."

**Author's Note:**

> Revisiting the Boys we first fell in love with, sooo sweet! 
> 
> For two real Honeys- ChrisCalledMeSweetie and DaisyFairy.


End file.
